


CATS Request Fics

by Lazulia



Category: Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber
Genre: From the author formerly known as Delphicoracle-Cat, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Lactation Kink, M/M, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Mpreg, Multi, Sexytimes, sappy romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-18 02:29:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18111416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lazulia/pseuds/Lazulia
Summary: A few years ago, I offered small fics-by-request on FF.net. These are those fics.





	1. Side-by-side

**Author's Note:**

> Check each chapter for a list of kinks and warnings, if applicable. 
> 
> I haven't taken requests in years, but it doesn't hurt to ask in a comment! I'm not opposed to anything that helps me rekindle my fancy for the fandom. 
> 
> CW for this chapter: bit of violence, minor injuries and blood, gratuitous use of the word 'dork'. Written for CrazyIndigoChild who wanted Misto and Munk as mates fighting together like badasses.

"Don't you ever—pull me—out of the way—again!"

Munkustrap was more than ready to respond in kind, but one look at Mistoffelees—narrowed eyes burning like fire, fangs bared, fur bristling—almost made him whimper. Even though they were lying in a pile of splintered wood while the battle raged on around them, with Munk's hand still holding Misto's wrist, the tux was a terrifying sight.

"But that… that little glowing thing was going to explode in your face," Munk offered meekly.

"I know it was!" Misto hissed. He shook out dust and splinters from his fur before starting to rise up. A loud flashbang explosion rattled the ground and the tux quickly sank down again. Not scared, though. Angry, and itching to get back into the fray. "That 'little glowing thing' was a magic bomb. I know how it works. If you hadn't pulled me away, I could have destroyed it!"

"Okay, okay!"

They were used to having Macavity and the henchcats attack the junkyard for whatever reason suited them—usually to raid their stores of food, or just to terrorize the Jellicles and remind them not to become too complacent. They were all used to this and capable of holding their own, at least until Macavity decided to introduce magic to the skirmish.

The Hidden Paw liked to send his henchcats in first, to test the waters and spread chaos in the junkyard. Half the time, Macavity himself wouldn't bother to show up, seeing no reason to put himself in any danger when his henchcats were more than happy to get some action.

When Munkustrap had run out after hearing screams and hisses, finishing off a large henchcat with a few strikes and claws, the first thing he noticed where the strange, palm-sized balls of glowing light strewn all around the junkyard by either Macavity or his henchcats. He wondered what they were, until the first of them began to explode. It was only through dumb luck that he'd happened to be far enough away from one of the energy bombs when they started going off.

Mistoffelees had quickly joined him, hissing about "bastard" this and "son-of-a-pollicle" that and muttering about how completely dishonorable it was to use magic when one was attacking non-magical cats. Macavity, the tux thought, wasn't here; more likely he'd made a few dozen of the little magic bombs for his henchcats and told them to toss them around and enjoy their sport.

As the flashbangs went off around him, Munk had to agree; the bursts of magical energy were enough to rock the ground and send junk piles high in the air before tumbling back to earth. Teeth and claws, he knew how to fight. Magical attacks, not so much.

Another flashbang, this one duller and farther away. It was probably safe now to get up, and Mistoffelees wasted no time in brushing himself off and leaping to his feet. His back was twitching and his tail was furiously whipping. There were no more magic bombs in sight, but they could be heard going off in the distance.

"I'm sorry," Misto said with a tense sigh. "I hate it when Macavity attacks. I always feel so useless… but at least I can help stop the magic bombs."

"You've never useless, love," Munk said. He planted a small, quick kiss on the tux's forehead. "You always manage to-"

"Watch out!"

Munkustrap's instinct was not to duck and hide when warned about danger. He turned to swipe but Mistoffelees' full body weight against his side was enough to knock him off-balance. He fell to his knees, recovering quickly enough to watch a stocky, striped tom deliver a hard swat to Mistoffelees' arm.

The tom's claws caught skin and came loose with a copious spray of blood as Mistoffelees cried out. He vainly tried to scratch back in response, only for the tom to side-step him with a snicker.

That did it. Munkustrap was up in a flash, growling and spitting and hitting the tom with open claws until he whined and skittered away, defeated.

Mistoffelees was still on his feet, clutching a paw to his bleeding arm.

"Didn't we just have a conversation about not pulling each other out of the way of danger and certain death?" Munkustrap asked.

The tux was breathing hard and looking chastened, wincing as he pulled his paw away to check his wound. "I didn't want him to hurt you."

"I can handle myself with the henchcats!"

Another flashbang went off in the distance, reminding them that the threat wasn't over yet. "We need to destroy those magic bombs before they kill someone."

Munkustrap nodded. "How's your arm?"

"It's fine," Mistoffelees said, pressing his paw to it again. It was still sluggishly bleeding. "You take care of the henchcats, I'll protect you from the bombs. Trust that I know what I'm doing and I'll do the same. Deal?"

"Deal."

They ran, shoulder-to-shoulder, towards the sounds of startled screams and hisses and growls and explosions. With a thunk!-thud-thud, a magic bomb bounced off a pile of wooden furniture and rolled in their direction, thrown by a nearby henchcat.

Munkustrap resisted the impulse to pull Mistoffelees down. Instead, he skidded to a halt, and let the tux do his job as he ran towards the glowing orb, spread his palm a few feet over it, and disintegrated the bomb with a small, bright lightning bolt.

Mistoffelees wavered on his feet for a second, either because of the blood loss from his injury or because the magical energy left him spent. But he recovered quickly, and together they ran again, until the next threat came in the form of a hefty patched henchcat who stopped in his pursuit of a yelping Pouncival to turn on them and growl.

And now it was Mistoffelees' turn to hang back, leaving Munkustrap to continue his forward momentum and send the patched tom crashing to the floor with harsh kicks and bites. With the henchcat disposed of, they ran once more.

Run, stop. Lightning, scratch, hiss, magic, growl. Finding and corralling Jellicles as they went, confirming that no one was critically injured, confirming that the henchcats were leaving and that they'd found and destroyed almost all the magic bombs.

When they got to the end of the junkyard, they cornered a final one of Macavity's toms. He was big, with more than a few pounds on Munkustrap, awkwardly holding one of the magic bombs with both paws, as though he wasn't quite sure if it would explode in his face or not.

"Put it down," Munkustrap warned. "Put it down, and just turn around and l-"

The tom hurled the magic bomb to the ground.

His aim was off; he probably meant to hit Munkustrap, but the bomb instead struck a wooden crate about two feet from the tabby. The explosion knocked Mistoffelees flat on his rear, ears ringing. When he shook his head, blinking through the dust, he saw Munkustrap writhing on the ground.

The magic bomb hadn't hit him, but there was a six-inch-long piece of splintered wood sticking out from the tabby's thigh. It bled, though not alarming so, but the wound was clearly going to be incapacitating; Munkustrap clutched the edges of the wound, groaning in pain. The henchcat grinned and made a step towards him.

"Oh no," Mistoffelees hissed. The pain of his own wound was long-forgotten. "Oh no you don't!"

The deal was off. Mistoffelees sprang and leapt onto the big henchcat's back, growling madly. The henchcat staggered and twisted to try and shake the smaller cat off, only to be brought to his knees in shocked pain as Mistoffelees' teeth sank down hard into his shoulder and didn't let go.

Through the throbbing haze of pain, Munkustrap watched in rapt silence as Mistoffelees clasped the henchcat's face between his claws, jumping off and twisting to face the cringing, scared tom.

"You like using magic?" the tux hissed. "Do you?"

Lightning exploded between Mistoffelees' paws. For a brief, horrible moment, Munkustrap thought he'd blown the henchcat's head apart, but when the flash cleared, the tom was still whole, a look of deep agony on his face. He clutched his ringing ears and burnt headfur as Mistoffelees released him, shrieking as he scampered out of the junkyard.

Breathing hard, Mistoffelees brushed himself, wincing as he remembered his arm wound, and pressed a paw to it as he knelt by Munkustrap. "Let's get that looked at," he said, nodding towards the tabby's thigh.

Munkustrap nodded slowly. "Remind me never to upset you again."

***

With the threat gone came the time for celebration. The junkyard was damaged here and there due to the magic bombs, but the Jellicles still found enough clear space to gather, sit down, and enjoy the peace. Cups of tea were passed around with a bit of scotch tossed in for vigor, though as the cups were refilled and repassed they became more scotch than tea.

"What a fright!" Jenny sighed. She was leaning against Skimbleshanks, draining her fourth cup of 'tea' and holding out her cup for more. "I thought those little… balls were going to be the end of us."

"Balls," Tugger snorted, earning a snicker from nearby toms. "Macavity's balls."

Munkustrap rolled his eyes while Mistoffelees, his arm in a sling and his head resting on the tabby's shoulder, giggled. Munkustrap's thigh had been cleaned and bandaged and his leg was slung over Mistoffelees' legs.

"I gotta say, though, Misto," Tugger said, raising his cup in a toast. "You sure took down that big fellow. I never had you pegged as such a spitfire."

Munkustrap planted a kiss to the furry head on his shoulder. "I didn't fall in love with him just because of his pretty face."

"Shut it," Mistoffelees laughed, giving the tabby a small swat on the leg, avoiding his wound. "Dork."


	2. Trinkets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contains happy kitty sexytimes
> 
> Written for LuckyDuck932, who requested some Misto/Mungo sexy goodness.

The velvet bag landed with a soft thud on the table. Mistoffelees looked up eagerly, and met Mungojerrie's equally eager grin.

"Did you get everything I asked for?"

"A-yup!" Mungojerrie said. He would have strutted proudly if he weren't standing still. "Wasn't easy to find everything, mind, but you know me. I'm a crafty sort!"

"You certainly are," Mistoffelees agreed. He opened the bag and pulled out two purple candles, a bottle of dried sage—he could smell the sweet herb even through the container—and a small brass bell. He nodded appreciatively.

"Not bad, yeah? All things you'll be needing for magic, right?"

"As always," Mistoffelees said, carefully laying out the items on the table and folding up the velvet bag. "I know I can always count on you, 'Jerrie."

Mungojerrie clicked his tongue to signal his agreement. He always looked so incongruous here in Mistoffelees' den. The tux liked to keep his living space dark and subdued, and had hung velvet cloths to cover any cracks in the walls. His shelves were dark and tidy. It was a space of calm, of reverence. Mungojerrie was the complete opposite; he was bright and boisterous. He stood out here in the darkness, like a beacon of loud orange and white fur. There was nothing subdued about him either; he moved as though constantly brimming with energy, and even now as Mistoffelees considered the items in front of him, Mungojerrie was busy picking at books on shelves and poking at candles and crystals.

"You got a lot of stuff already," Mungojerrie said, matter-of-factly. "You sure you need more?"

"Of course," Mistoffelees said. "Every single object has a different magical property. Every herb, every stone, even every candle. It's all very important."

Mungojerrie nodded as though he understood. He picked up a vial of dried herbs, sniffed it, and sneezed loudly.

"So, I really do appreciate you finding these for me."

"Oh, well, you know!" Mungojerrie said with a hearty sniff. He shuffled a bit awkwardly on his feet. "So, you still owe me-?"

Mistoffelees smiled. Mungojerrie always got so nervous around this part, and even though he was always itching to have his part of the bargain fulfilled, he still acted so… damn… cute about it. How many times had they done this? Six, maybe seven times? And still, Mungojerrie was nervous. He was twirling a small pink crystal in his paws, and coincidentally it was the first item Mistoffelees had requested from him, just over a month ago. With a grin, Mungojerrie had asked for a kiss in return, stunned when the tux readily accepted.

"Of course. I haven't forgotten our agreement." Mistoffelees reclined on his bed, propping his head up with one paw and purring as he patted the spot next to him.

Mungojerrie grinned that grin of his and tossed the pink crystal aside, quickly joined him, jumping and landing hard enough on the bed to make Mistoffelees bounce. His grin was not lecherous—it never was. Even when he'd delivered the pink crystal a month ago, stolen off a human queen's necklace, and requested his kiss as payment, he'd had a happy, giddy grin.

And now he lay on Mistoffelees' bed, again in bright contrast to the smooth dark blanket carefully covering the surface. He didn't lie still for long, crawling on top of Mistoffelees and peppering his face and neck with quick little kisses as he brought their hips together and started to grind. He was young, almost exactly the same age as Mistoffelees, and excited, and this sort of no-time-to-waste sex suited them both. Mistoffelees rocked back, pushing his erection into the crook of Mungojerrie's hip, sighing at the heat and the textured feel of bristled fur.

He took Mungojerrie's head between his paws, making him slow down his fevered little pecks, and kissed him sweetly, lowering his guard before he reached down and pinched Mungojerrie's nipples hard, making him yelp and nearly fly off the bed with excitement.

"Oh, it's like that, eh?" Mungojerrie snickered. He smacked the tux's paws away and retaliated by tickling his ribs.

"Hey, no—stop!" Mistoffelees cried, between loud giggles. They tussled and tickled and rolled on the bed until Mungojerrie ended up on his stomach with Mistoffelees half-straddling his back. The tux hoisted himself off and, still breathing hard, patted the bedspread again. "Come on, get on the bed."

"I am on the bed," Mungojerrie said cheekily.

"Get on your back."

"Your Highness!" He did, rolling and gracelessly flopping on his back, putting his paws behind his head as he watched Mistoffelees crawl back on top of him. All trace of cheek vanished as the tux bent down to draw Mungojerrie's erection into his mouth, licking and sucking and being deliberately sloppy about it to coat the hard flesh in saliva. Mungojerrie was already starting to twitch and moan, yanking at the bedspread above his head, when Mistoffelees let him slip out and climbed up to straddle him.

That grin came back, but it was less of lecherous triumph and more of a smile of giddy amazement at getting something he so desired. Mistoffelees liked that kind of attention, and it was such an easy price for his magical trinkets. He basked in the attention now, rolling his hips teasingly and lifting his tail before sinking down, biting his lip as Mungojerrie stretched and filled him.

"Ah, oh, Misto!" Mungojerrie cried. He always turned into a chatterbox during this part of sex. "You feel amazin', you know? Yer so beautiful."

"Thank you," Mistoffelees huffed. He spread his paws on Mungojerrie's heaving ribs and brought himself down again, again and again. He only had a few moments before the other cat's impatience would cause him to—yup.

Mistoffelees didn't resist as Mungojerrie tipped them over, curling the tux's legs over his shoulders as he pounded. "I mean it," Mungojerrie said, his voice clipped and hoarse from the effort. "Yer beautiful. Yer amazin'… I'd do this to ya all night if you'd let me! I still can't believe ya let me… let me… ah!"

Mungojerrie cut himself off as he came, a twitching, uncoordinated mess. He panted and moaned for a few seconds; unlike with some cats, orgasm left him even more energetic, and Mistoffelees knew he didn't have to wait long for him to notice the tux's still-prominent erection.

"I got it," Mungojerrie said unnecessarily. Mistoffelees clawed the bedspread and sighed in pleasure as he was stroked with delicious pressure. Mungojerrie was talented at this. "M'not going too hard, yeah? You'll tell me? Yer so beautiful like this… I could watch ya all night…"

Mistoffelees came with a throaty groan. He panted, only half-registering that Mungojerrie was gently pulling out and flopping back on the bed next to him. By the time he was paying attention again, Mungojerrie was grinning madly at him and licking the seed from his paw.

"Ew," Mistoffelees said playfully.

"I like this part," Mungojerrie said. When he finished cleaning his paw, he rolled onto his stomach, bouncing the bed again, tail swishing like a kitten. "So you'll… you'll be needin' me again soon, I gather? To find more things for ya in Victoria Grove?"

The tux nodded and stretched. "I'm going to start working on a new spell in a few days. Come see me, all right?"

"Yeah! Awright!"

Brimming with energy, Mungojerrie leapt to his feet. He gave Mistoffelees one last happy, giddy look, then practically skipped out of the den, tail held high.

Stretching again, Mistoffelees slowly rolled off the bed. His den definitely lacked something once Mungojerrie left. The place was subdued and dignified but a little undignified energy was good every once in a while.

He grabbed the candles, the herbs, and the bell, and walked to the back of his den. With his foot, he pushed aside a thick curtain, hiding a wooden box that was already two-thirds full of books, candles, oils, crystals and trinkets. He unceremoniously dumped the items on top and brushed off his hands.

Pulling the curtain back into place, he sighed happily. Maybe it was time to finally drop the pretence. After all, it was getting harder and harder to think of "magical" items for Mungojerrie to fetch.


	3. Snowfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for MayDay4, who requested some romantic Tugger/Misto hurt/comfort.

"Misto!"

"Are you all right!?"

"What just happened?"

"Will you all just give him some air?"

Mistoffelees blinked the falling snow from his eyes. The last instruction had come from Tugger, who was shooing away the frantic kittens from where he'd fallen. One of Mistoffelees' paws was tightly grasping his foot, the other his calf, framing a part of his leg that couldn't decide if it wanted to go numb with pain or not. What probably hurt the most was his pride; his head still felt fuzzy from the fall, but the last thing he recalled was standing up on the TSE-1 to let Electra sit next to him. It seemed the slick, snow-covered surface of the old wreck of a car had decided to relieve him of his balance.

He'd fallen many times before while running or dancing, but never had he felt such an insistent crunch coming from one of his limbs. A jabbing, pins-and-needles pain throbbed from his leg and as he rocked helplessly over his limb, it was becoming increasingly clear that he wasn't going to be able to just walk this injury off. Okay, maybe his pride wasn't what hurt the most right now.

"Oh, Misto!" Victoria sobbed. Beside her, Electra and Pouncival huddled, staring helplessly.

"Misto…" A paw touched his trembling shoulder and he was grateful that it was Tugger, and not one of the panicky kittens. His watery eyes met Tugger's; the other tom could be awfully serious, when he wanted to be.

"Okay," Mistoffelees said. He drew in a breath, staggering on the exhale, and sniffled. He was not going to cry, damn it. "Okay, this… this really hurts."

"Well, I figured," Tugger deadpanned. "Is it broken?"

"I don't know." The tux's eyes went wide. "What if it is? What if I can't dance anymore?!"

"Oh no!" Electra gasped.

"He'll be fine."

"What if my leg falls off—ow! No no no stop!"

All he'd really done was pry Mistoffelees' paws away from the leg. There was a lump on the outside of the leg, visible through the fluffy white fur. The skin wasn't broken, but the lump didn't exactly promise an intact bone.

As gently as he could, Tugger ran his paw over the lump, only to be rewarded with a swift kick to the stomach from Mistoffelees' good leg.

"You bloody arse!" the tux cried. He grabbed his calf again. "That hurt!"

"My ribs are fine, though, thank you for asking," Tugger coughed, brushing snow from his mane as he sat up and crawled back to the injured tux. "That seems pretty broken to me."

Mistoffelees whimpered. He began to shiver, either from the shock of his injury or from the cold. Tugger was close enough that he could bury his face into the fluffy mane, looking for heat and comfort.

"No need to be dramatical about it," Tugger said. Though he did, to Mistoffelees' gratitude, hug back.

"Should we get help?" Pouncival asked.

Tugger shook his head. He began to slide one arm under Mistoffelees' knees to the tux's horror; wait, was Tugger planning on moving him? "He just needs to get someplace warm where I can take care of that leg."

"Wait—you take care?" Mistoffelees asked. "What do you know about- oww! Bastard!"

He tensed as Tugger lifted him off the ground, realized that tensing wasn't a recipe for success when it came to pain, and forced himself to relax. His leg still throbbed angrily but there was marginal relief in going limp.

"There there," Tugger said. He was flippant enough to still be himself but there was sympathy there. Maybe. Maybe Mistoffelees was just too woozy from the pain to tell. "It happens to the best of us— and by the best, naturally I mean me. I broke my leg two years ago, remember?"

"I remember!" Electra said.

"Didn't you fall out a tree-" Pouncival began.

"No…"

"… after that squirrel frightened you?" Victoria said.

"Nope! Moving away now."

Mistoffelees whimpered with every step. His fur was getting cold and damp from the snow and he'd never been happier to spot Tugger's den.

Once inside, Tugger carefully deposited him on his bed. Getting the leg comfortable was another story, and Mistoffelees could only get comfortable once Tugger had propped two pillows under it and a few under his head.

"I feel like such a fool," Mistoffelees sighed. He covered his face with his paws, trying to block out the pain, while Tugger rummaged around the back of his den.

"I can see how," Tugger airily said as he settled down next to the tux, a stack of thick bandages in hand. "You broke your leg while standing. That takes a special sort of skill."

"Okay, shut it."

"I mean, running or dancing, yes. Walking even. Standing, that's… have you ever stood before? Because I stand all the time, and I don't break my limbs. I'm just saying."

One of the pillows went sailing by Tugger's head.

"What are you going to do?" Mistoffelees asked. He didn't care for the way Tugger was eyeing his swollen leg and clearly planning on touching it, like the arsehole he was.

"Well, this needs to be bound. And the bone needs to be pushed back into place. Lucky for you, I know what I'm doing."

"Pushed how? Why? By you? You don't look qualified to—aah!"

The tux's claws sank deep into the bed as Tugger lifted his leg, wrapping the bandage tightly around his ankle and then up his calf, stopping just short of the knee. Okay, maybe he did look like he knew what he was doing, but this hurt. Mistoffelees made a low keening sound and sighed in relief when Tugger finished tying the bandage.

It did feel a little better. At least, until Tugger grasped his ankle and calf and hesitatingly said, "This part may hurt a bit."

Mistoffelees opened his mouth to protest, but only managed a strangled groan and a frantic flailing of the arms as Tugger manipulated his leg. Did he even know what he was doing? Did he? But the tux felt a soft pop in his lower leg and the pain seemed to ease a bit.

The deed done, Tugger fluffed a pillow and placed Mistoffelees' leg on top. The tux was still panting harshly, one arm thrown over his eyes, tail whipping and twitching in agony.

"Misto…?"

"I'm leaving you."

A chuckle. "There there, love. I'll make you feel better."

Before he could snarl and order Tugger never to touch him again, his mate crawled into bed with him and kissed him softly. "You'll be back on your feet in no time," Tugger said. "Dancing again before the snow melts. Just try not to stand, you seem to have issues with that."

"I said shut it," Mistoffelees said. He did readily accept another kiss and cuddled into Tugger. He was exhausted, but the vicious throbbing in his leg was driving him to madness. "Tug, is this… is it supposed to hurt this much?"

"I know what will help," Tugger said, hopping to his feet. "Don't go anywhere."

"Funny."

Tugger went back to rummaging through his den. "Hey Misto?"

"Hm?"

"You'll notice how I'm standing here, and not breaking anything? How am I doing this?"

It was Tugger's luck that Mistoffelees had run out of pillows to throw. When he returned with a small pouch, he crawled back into bed and opened it.

"Catnip," Tugger said. "It's all I have, but it might help with the pain."

"Thank you." The tux dipped his finger into the pouch, coating his finger. He brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply before licking the herb from his finger.

Already the catnip was making him relaxed and sleepy, dulling the roar of pain. He snuggled into Tugger's mane and sighed.

"You're a good nurse," Mistoffelees murmured.

"I have my moments," Tugger said, laying a small kiss to the tux's head. "At least I've mastered the art of standing."

A weak swat was Mistoffelees' reply before he fell to sleep against his mate's warm body.


	4. Relief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW: implied mpreg, lactation kink
> 
> Written for RedRoses2, who request some mpreg and/or lactation kink. Tugger is a kinky bastard, but that should surprise exactly no one.

Mistoffelees turned over with a groan, stretching out his arms and taking a deep breath and doing anything else he could think of to relieve the ache in his chest. He kept one ear pricked and turned to the door of his and Tugger's room, listening as Tugger sang softly and their son Finnigan stopped whining.

When Tugger quietly padded back into their room, the tux raised big, hopeful eyes to his mate. "Well?"

"I'm sorry," Tugger said, shaking his head as he flopped back on the bed. "He just wanted a hug. He wasn't hungry."

Mistoffelees crossed his arms over his chest and groaned miserably. He remembered a time where their newborn kitten would wake every hour to nurse, leaving him so mindless with exhaustion that he once demanded Tugger hold their son to the tux's chest while he slept. He couldn't even remember if Tugger had actually done it, or if he'd managed to stay awake despite the haze of sleep deprivation. He remembered how much he'd cursed the fact that his body had decided, after letting him conceive and give birth to a beautiful kitten, to also let him nurse the hungry little thing. He remembered how he'd counted down the days until the kitten could eat real food, and wouldn't need milk anymore.

He'd gotten his wish; once the little guy got his first taste of fish and his first lap of cream, he never looked back. Leaving Mistoffelees thrilled that the nursing ordeal was over.

Until he realized what a terrible idea it was to stop nursing without tapering off. His body hadn't quite gotten the message yet that his son wasn't keen on milk anymore, leaving him swollen and aching and miserable. Jenny had assured him the milk would dry out eventually, and told him it might help to squeeze some excess milk out himself to relieve the pressure. There was nothing about that sentence he liked.

He hadn't even left his den in the last few days. He couldn't stomach the thought of trying to have a conversation with someone while milk casually dribbled down his chest. What if someone slipped in a puddle? He'd never be able to look them in the eye again.

Mistoffelees had hoped that their son would decide he'd made a terrible mistake with this nursing strike, but no such luck.

"I'm going insane, Tug," Mistoffelees said. He poked at his swollen chest and made a face. "Can these things explode? Because it feels like they're about to."

Tugger nodded sagely. "They probably will. It's going to make an awful mess."

He pushed futilely against his chest, trying to assuage the ache. His fur was already a damp mess. "Jellylorum taught me how to press the milk out myself, but I don't think it's working very well. Not as well as when Finnigan nurses, that's for certain."

"Do you want me to try?"

"Sure, I suppose. I don't know how much longer I c—Tugger! What in Everlasting's name are you doing??"

Tugger released the nipple he'd just started to clasp between his lips, not a trace of guilt as he glanced up at his mate. "I'm helping you. You said I could try."

"I said you could try squeezing—were you really going to drink that?"

"Well yes!"

"That's disgusting!"

"It's milk! Finnigan drinks it."

"But it's not meant for you. It probably tastes strange."

"It probably tastes sweet, just like you," Tugger said, running a paw over Mistoffelees' leg. Their bouts of mating had been few and far between since the kitten was born and the tux was on the verge of getting aroused by the touching… if it hadn't been for the persistent pressure in his chest. "You might like it if you let me try."

"Tug, are you…" Mistoffelees gaped. "Is this a turn-on for you?"

"A little bit."

The questing paw strayed towards his chest and Mistoffelees batted it away. "But why?"

Tugger arched an eyebrow and shrugged airily. Well, okay; asking Tugger why anything turned him on was like asking why the moon rose every night: it just did.

"That's all well and good," Mistoffelees huffed. "But it's not going to happen."

With a grumble, Misto rolled over, tried to find a comfortable position, gave up, and struggled to fall into a restless sleep. Beside him, Tugger eventually curled up to sleep, and there was something a little disappointed in his mate's manner, but whatever. He didn't need to find relief that badly.

***

"T… Tugger?"

"….. hnrm?"

Mistoffelees sat up in bed, clutching a soaked towel to his chest and pleadingly eyeing his mate. Ignoring the discomfort in his chest had done exactly nothing; he'd dozed for an hour and then woke up feeling more swollen than before.

Fine. Forget dignity, forget perversion; this hurt, and he needed help.

"You can try."

Tugger blearily blinked at him. "Huh?"

"I said you can try with the…" And he couldn't even say it out loud. Instead he moved the towel away and gestured towards his chest.

Tugger blinked again, processing the instruction until the little lightbulb went off and his eyes widened, almost comically. His tail swung in a high, pleased arc. "Y… yeah? You don't mind?"

"I'm way past minding. How do you want to—aah! Wait!"

Tugger upended him onto the bed and for a moment Mistoffelees feared something close to a ravishing, but Tugger only had a kiss in mind for the moment. This was nice. This almost—almost—distracted from the ache in his chest.

"I knew you'd see things my way," Tugger chirped, ignoring the tux's pointed eye-roll. He pressed a few kisses to the fluffy white neck before getting down to business.

"Just don't get too excited," Mistoffelees sighed, squirming a little in discomfort as Tugger's mouth closed around a nipple. The moment his mate began to suck, a deep, surprised groan erupted from his throat.

"That's… oh. Hmm." Unexpected was the first word that came to mind. Nursing was tedious and painful but this was something else entirely. His nipples had been overly sensitive ever since he'd conceived and this was the first time the sensitivity was being put to good use. Shocked, he looked down to see what Tugger was doing; it didn't look like much, but he could feel the blessed relief of the milk being pulled from his chest, and saw how his mate's throat bobbed every so often as he swallowed.

A quick swipe of tongue on his nipple made him shiver all over, and with a shock he realized he was getting aroused from this. The relief from the awful pressure was one part of it, but the attention on a hypersensitive part of his body was another important part. Another swipe of Tugger's tongue before the hard, persistent sucking began anew, and he couldn't help it, he moaned out loud and reached down to grasp Tugger's mane.

Great, now Tugger knew he was the one getting turned on by this. He could feel the rumble and the stuttered breath as Tugger laughed, still enthusiastically nursing, adding a purr to the mix.

Mistoffelees moaned again, and made the mistake of looking down and catching Tugger's eye. Oh damn him and that damn cheeky look and that knowing way he raised his eyebrow.

With a last swipe of rough tongue, Tugger latched off and gave him a maddening grin, licking his shining lips. "What was that about not getting too excited?"

His paw strayed down to Mistoffelees' groin as he teased and this time, the touch wasn't batted away. In fact, the tux wound his fingers into Tugger's mane and, with a resigned sigh, pulled him down towards another nipple.

"Shut it," he huffed. "And don't stop."


	5. His Own Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for excessive making out.
> 
> Written for Pricklefritz, who requested a Tugger/Misto fluffy make-out fest.

Mistoffelees' back collided with the TSE-1 with a dull whump. Seconds later, Tugger's body covered his, and a hot mouth enthusiastically explored his own.

He didn't object. In fact, he only objected when the kissing, fevered and loving all at once, ended.

"Good morning to you too," the tux said, fanning Tugger's face with heaving breaths. "So it's going to be that kind of day, is it?"

"I've been waiting all day to do that," Tugger growled.

"Didn't you just wake up half an hour ago?"

"It was a very painful half-hour."

Mistoffelees chuckled, then moaned softly as Tugger leaned in to kiss him again, softer and gentler this time. On a good day they could spend hours mating like frantic youngsters, but every so often, Tugger would simply want… this.

And again, Mistoffelees did not object. He loved this as much as mating, having Tugger's tender attention on him, having those big powerful paws cradling his back and squeezing his rump and having that hot tongue exploring his—

"…. Cough."

They would have sprung apart, were it not for Tugger's paws still firmly connected to Mistoffelees' rear. As it were, Mistoffelees only pulled away far enough to spot Admetus. He stood with his mouth agape, looking terribly embarrassed to have interrupted the tryst, but not embarrassed enough to look away.

"You know," Tugger growled. "Traditionally one quietly slinks away when one catches a couple in the act."

"Yes, well," Admetus said, shuffling from paw to paw. "I was just walking in the area and… uh."

"And now I think you're going to continue that walk towards less interesting sights, aren't you?"

Mistoffelees lazily stretched and draped his arms over Tugger's shoulders, thoroughly enjoying the little exchange. Admetus finally scampered away while muttering an apology.

"How many times has he caught us?" Tugger sighed melodramatically. "Four times in the last week alone?"

"I've lost count," Mistoffelees said, smiling uncontrollably. "I suppose we'll be finding a different spot now?"

"Naturally. Do come."

Tugger led him away from the TSE-1 and made a quick visual scan of surrounding areas, until he seemed to find exactly what he was looking for. He settled for a spot over by the old discarded oven, where he wasted no time in growling playfully and preparing to lift Mistoffelees in his arms again.

The tux managed to squirm free and did a passable job of shoving Tugger against the rusted surface of the oven. "Oh no you don't. It's my turn now."

And so Mistoffelees took the lead, nosing through Tugger's chest and mane and delivering tiny little kisses to the fur, working his way up while Tugger spread his long limbs out, lounged back, purring at the attention and responding eagerly when Mistoffelees reached his mouth.

They'd only just returned to the level of passion of their previously-interrupted session, with groping paws and fervent kissing, when footfalls announced the arrival of more interlopers.

"… and the blanket is almost done, really, I just need to find my knitting needles. They're my favourite, you know. I'm sure I just left them by —Oh! Everlasting, it never fails!"

They pulled apart, in no particular hurry to jump away from each other. In fact, now it was Tugger's turn to lazily stretch. "Why, Jenny, Jelly! Good morning to you ladies."

"Tugger, for the love of everything," Jenny said, dropped her face into her paw. She may have been trying to shield her eyes from the sight. It wasn't entirely clear. "Why are you two always where I need to be? I don't suppose you've seen my-"

Tugger reached behind his rump and held out the object of Jenny's quest.

"—knitting needles, right," Jenny sighed.

"I hope your blanket turns out well," Mistoffelees innocently said.

"I think the two of you need to take up a hobby," Jellylorum sniffed as the pair clambered off the oven and dusted themselves off.

Tugger grinned. "Oh, we have a hobby. You might say we've gotten plenty of practice at it."

"Oh, will you just get on with it elsewhere!"

Mistoffelees couldn't hide a snicker as Tugger made a great show of hoisting himself off the oven, bowing to the old queens, and taking his mate's paw to lead him away.

"They seemed upset about something," the tux cheekily said as they walked through the junk piles and dens.

"It is quite upsetting to lose one's knitting needles," Tugger agreed. He stopped as he seemed to deem a spot acceptable, wrapping his arms around Mistoffelees' back and snapping his teeth.

Mistoffelees coolly raised an eyebrow. "Here, really?"

"It feels cozy to me. And why not? Are you worried I'll do this?"

Tugger's paws moved from the tux's back to his rear and kneaded, lifted, and slammed the smaller body again the solid cherry-wood of an overturned dresser.

Mistoffelees' breath rushed out at the impact, though he quickly recovered by purring and wrapping his legs around Tugger's waist as his mate leaned in to nip at his open mouth.

They kissed, until Tugger broke away to whispered in the tux's ear, "And are you worried I'll do… this?"

A nibble to Mistoffelees' ear turned into a bite, which turned into a long, pleasured yelp, and then another as Tugger repeated the gesture.

The rather suggestive sounds were quickly overtaken by angry footfalls and the slamming of a den door.

"Tugger! Mistoffelees! Would you please get off the side of my den!?"

Munkustrap stood with one paw planted on his hip, the other angrily pointed in a direction far, far away from his living space.

"This is your den?" Tugger gaped. He nibbled Mistoffelees' ear one last time, for good measure. "Misto, I told you we should have picked a different spot! We've interrupted poor Munk's tea and crocheting!"

Munkustrap sighed and pinched his nose. "How many times have I caught you two in the last week alone?"

"If you had this," Tugger said, squeezing his mate's legs for emphasis. "Wouldn't you want to show it off too?"

"You're a pest, Tugger. Get out of here, both of you!"

"I suppose he's lost his knitting needles too," Mistoffelees said, grinning like a kitten as they walked away again, paw-in-paw.

"It does seem to put one in a foul mood."

"So where to, now?"

"I think I heard that Bomba and Demeter were going to be having tea in the clearing."

Mistoffelees giggled. "Shall we?"

To the entirety of the junkyard, it looked as though Tugger simply had an exhibitionism fantasy. And, with his various kinks and tastes, he probably did, but Mistoffelees knew this was something else entirely.

Just before they arrived at the clearing, Mistoffelees fastened his paw around Tugger's neck and planted a long, slow kiss on his mate's lips. He whispered, "I love you, you giant sap."

He felt the lips curl into a smile.

Tugger was terrible with words, especially tender ones. As long as they lived, Mistoffelees would likely never hear the words "I love you" coming from his mate's mouth. But this little ritual, this fervent-yet-tender kissing, this showing the entire junkyard, Jellicle by Jellicle, that Mistoffelees was his mate and that he was proud of it… this was his own admission of devotion, in paws and kisses instead of words.

It was Tugger language, loud and clear, for _I love you_.

And Mistoffelees loved it.


End file.
